


Medicate

by breathe_out



Category: Call of Duty (Video Games)
Genre: Game: Call of Duty, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:02:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24836596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breathe_out/pseuds/breathe_out
Summary: Price takes care of Soap.Obligatory sick!fic
Relationships: John "Soap" MacTavish/John Price
Comments: 3
Kudos: 39





	Medicate

Soap knew it was going to be a shite day as soon as he woke that morning. The sunlight streaming through his bedroom window seemed abnormally bright. He winced away from the light and squeezed his eyes shut. It felt like someone had stuffed a hundred cotton balls in his skull while he had been asleep. The back of his throat burned and his mouth was as dry as sand. 

He untangled his bare legs from the sheets and stumbled out of bed to shove the curtains closed. The room turned pleasantly dark once he had managed to fumble his way across the floor. Soap moaned in discomfort and clutched his temples; his head was splitting with a nasty headache. Even the familiar sound of the birds singing outside had turned quite painful. 

His body shivered involuntarily, although it was well into the summer season. The boxer shorts and soft gray t-shirt that he had worn to bed the night before did little to keep him warm. His stomach churned with nausea. The ground seemed to tilt to the side as a wave of dizziness overwhelmed him. Soap slid back under his bedcovers and buried his face in the pillow. He pulled the comforter up to his chin and burrowed deeper into the mattress.

His cell phone lay on a dresser against the opposite wall. Soap considered calling Price, but crossing the distance between the bed and the phone was far too much effort. His eyelids fluttered shut and he drifted to sleep. 

-

Soap groaned as he was roused from his sleep. Someone was gently shaking his shoulder. Strong, adept fingers glided across his bicep soothingly as he stirred from unconsciousness. 

“Can you wake up for me, love?” 

It was Price, sitting next to him in the bed and appearing very concerned. The corners of his eyes were crinkled in worry. Soap tried to shake the drowsiness threatening to pull him back under. He licked his cracked lips and managed to slightly lift his head.

“Price?” His voice sounded weak, even to his own ears. “Wha’ are you doin’ here?” 

Price visibly relaxed. “You asked me to come by today, remember?” 

He leaned forward to place his palm flush against Soap’s forehead. He leaned into the other man’s cool touch. “Bloody hell, John. You’re burning up.” 

Soap trembled uncontrollably – he had kicked off the covers in the throes of a restless dream. “I feel like shit.” He admitted. 

“You should have called.” 

“M’sorry.” 

-

Price shook his head in disbelief. He stood to gather the blankets and draw them over Soap’s feverish form. Then, he retreated from the bedroom to fetch a washcloth. He doused the cloth in cold water and squeezed out the excess. When he returned, Soap had shifted onto his back. His eyelids were shut tight in discomfort and his breathing seemed shallow. Price dabbed at the beads of sweat on Soap’s face before neatly folding the cloth to place it on his forehead.

“Price, you don’ have to do this.” Soap whispered. “It’s jus’ a little cold.” 

Price couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. The man is as stubborn as a mule. 

He took a seat on the edge of the bed and covered Soap’s hand with his own. “I’m not going anywhere, love. Let me take care of you.”

Soap’s eyes looked glazed, but he nodded. “M’kay.” 

For the rest of the day, Soap drifted in and out of consciousness. Time slipped away. Price reawakened him occasionally to shove medicine or gator aid down his throat, but he was so exhausted that he would quickly fall back to sleep. Soap tossed and turned in a feverish haze. At some point, Price set a chair next to the bed to keep an eye on him. He even tossed another blanket over Soap to keep him warm. 

Well into the evening, Soap’s temperature finally dropped down to a more reasonable level. Price sighed as he peered at the thermometer gripped between his fingers. He would never admit it aloud, but he had considered taking Soap to a physician if his fever never abated. He laid the device aside and brushed his hand through Soap’s hair. Something delicate tugged at Price’s heart as he gazed at Soap with an affection. It was a tenderness reserved for him alone. 

Ever so carefully, he crawled into the bed and settled next to Soap. He pulled his lover closer through the blankets and pressed him close to his chest. Soap mumbled in his sleep and rolled over to lay his head on Price’s shoulder. 

Together, they lay in the bed and dreamt of a better tomorrow.


End file.
